


always bound to fail

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Bathroom Sex, Flash Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “What, do you want to fight?” Foggy asks. “Because, honestly, I’m in.”“Kind of like fighting,” Matt says, stepping closer. He’s a fraction of an inch shorter than Foggy, but he knows he’s good at looming, just like he knows his smile can be used as a tool. He uses both, and Foggy’s whole body reacts.He kisses Matt first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing kink prompts on Tumblr and this was one of them, written super quickly!
> 
> (Also, I just realized that I haven't replied to comments in a million years, so please know that I love and treasure all of you and you are the wind beneath my wings.)

Foggy doesn’t hold back. Matt doesn’t expect him to, not really, but Foggy—does _not_ hold back. It’s a tough case, a vigilante that went too far, and Matt came in late to sit in the back of the room and watch. It feels like a shadow of the Castle case, almost, and he’s sure Foggy feels it, too. He can hear it in his voice, especially after he notices Matt and hisses, so nobody but Matt can hear, “Nothing I say here is about you.”

Foggy wins. He deserved to win on performance, even if Matt’s not sure that his client deserves to go free. That’s not always how this works, though, so Matt shakes it off and heads towards the front to catch Foggy’s attention.

“Good job,” he says, before Foggy can say anything, listening curiously to the uptick of his heart, still too familiar.

They’re in front of too many people for Foggy to blow him off, so he says, faux-easily, “Thanks, Matt,” and “I’m holding my hand out,” so Matt can reach out to shake it. Foggy’s grip is tight.

Matt’s going to say more, but then Marci’s sweeping in to drag Foggy away, whispering, “You looked like you needed saving.”

“It’s fine,” Foggy says, and Matt can’t pick out the sound of his heart surrounded by all these people, but he’s pretty sure that he’s lying.

*

Matt tells himself that he’s not waiting for Foggy while he lingers in the hallway inside, but he’s waiting for Foggy. From the way Foggy swears softly under his breath when he sees him, Foggy knows it, too.

“Foggy,” he says, stepping forward.

Foggy doesn’t say anything for a moment before he says, “I’ll meet you guys at the bar,” to whoever he’s walking with. After that, he walks down the hallway; Matt follows him and tries not to look too eager.

“What do you want?” Foggy asks, voice stiff.

“I…” Matt starts, struggling to come up with an exact reason that isn’t _I miss you_.

“We don’t have to do this,” Foggy says, when Matt comes up short, when he has to bite his tongue to keep from saying _come back._ “Unless one of us changes careers, we’re gonna see each other here, and—we don’t have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Matt asks.

“Like we still care about each other,” Foggy says. His voice falters.

“I’m not pretending,” Matt says. “Are you?”

Foggy’s heart races, but he’s just turning to walk away. Matt can tell that his shoes are new and expensive from the sound they make as he moves. He’s thinking about that when he makes the choice to grab Foggy’s elbow to try to keep him there, saying, “Don’t, let me—”

“Don’t _touch_ me,” Foggy says, a little too sharp for the situation, twisting out of Matt’s grip.

“I just want to _talk_ ,” Matt says.

“I don’t need to talk to you anymore,” Foggy says, but he’s staying.

“Then, let’s—not talk,” Matt says.

It has something to do with the way Foggy smells right now, adrenaline and nice cologne, not too strong or unnatural—something to do with the fact that Foggy can’t keep his voice from shaking. And, honestly, something to do with the months they’ve spent apart and the years they spent together and something that Matt never thought he’d be allowed to have.

“What, do you want to fight?” Foggy asks. “Because, honestly, I’m in.”

“Kind of like fighting,” Matt says, stepping closer. He’s a fraction of an inch shorter than Foggy, but he knows he’s good at looming, just like he knows his smile can be used as a tool. He uses both, and Foggy’s whole body reacts.

He kisses Matt first.

It’s not a nice kiss. Back when Matt first started thinking about Foggy kissing him, back in undergrad when they’d get drunk and he’d use it as an excuse to touch Foggy, he always thought it would be nice. Gentle hands with writing callouses, soft mouth, pressing forward carefully until Matt opened up for him.

This isn’t that kiss—this is Foggy’s hand fisted in his shirt and Foggy’s teeth on his bottom lip, his tongue in Matt’s mouth. Matt gasps and reels back for just long enough to get his bearing before he lets Foggy tug him down the hallway and into a single bathroom, turns to shove Foggy up against the door.

“This is what you want?” he asks, trapping Foggy up against it, their chests pressed together. “From me?”

Foggy doesn’t answer at first, just kisses Matt again like it’s really a fight, like he wants to get away from him exactly as much as he wants to shove his tongue down Matt’s throat.

“I don’t want you,” Foggy says, when they eventually part. It’s a lie, and Foggy sighs, realizing that Matt knows immediately. “There’s a difference between wanting to fuck you and wanting _you_.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, smiling fiercely, sliding a hand between them to start working on Foggy’s belt. He moves faster when Foggy doesn’t try to stop him, pinning Foggy against the door with one hand while his other unzips Foggy’s pants and slides into his boxers. They’ve never touched each other like this before, and Matt’s only ever kissed another guy, but this feels familiar somehow. Foggy’s heart pounding in his ear, his dick heavy and leaking in Matt’s hand.

He huffs out a surprised laugh when Foggy pushes against him, backing Matt up until the sink is digging into the small of his back.

“What happens after this?” Foggy asks, shoving his face into Matt’s neck and nipping at the skin. “We jerk each other off in the courthouse when we happen to see each other? We aren’t even _talking_.”

“Then _don’t_ talk,” Matt says, lifting his hips up to give Foggy better access to undo his pants and push them to his knees, followed by the sound of Foggy shoving down his own pants, too.

“Fine,” Foggy says. “Open your mouth.”

Matt does so immediately, biting down lightly when Foggy slips three fingers into his life, hissing when Foggy’s hand finally closes around his erection. He licks around Foggy’s fingers, tries to draw them in deeper then moaning when Foggy basically starts to fuck his mouth with them.

“I think I like you better when you can’t talk,” Foggy says, and it should hurt, maybe, but it just makes Matt want to prove him right. He lets his teeth graze Foggy’s fingers as he pulls them out then takes off his glasses and sits them carefully on the counter.

Everything slows down then, while Matt can feel Foggy looking at him, lifting his head so he can look all he wants—until Foggy lets out a harsh breath and locks his hands on Matt’s hips, lifting him enough that Matt gets the picture and boosts himself up onto the sink.

Foggy’s hand immediately finds Matt’s dick again and Matt has to bite back the noise he makes, tipping his head back to rest it against the mirror as Foggy jerks him off roughly. He kicks his legs just enough to let his pants fall to the floor, and Foggy leans up to suck bruises onto his neck like he’s making a point.

“You wanted to do this before, didn’t you?” Matt asks, when he can catch his breath again. “Have me like this?”

Foggy’s hand falters for just a moment before he speeds up, biting down harder where a bruise is blooming up right under Matt’s jaw before he says, “Don’t flatter yourself, seventy five percent of people who see your ass want to have you like this.”

“They don’t get to, though,” Matt says, hissing softly when Foggy tightens his grip. “F—Foggy, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Already?” Foggy asks. “Maybe we should talk about how much _you_ want this, Matt _._ ”

He lets go of Matt and steps back, huffing out a laugh when Matt whines and wraps a leg around him to pull him back in. He’s about to try to rub himself off against Foggy, thrusting against him roughly, when Foggy tugs him down and turns him around so he’s almost bent over the sink.

He almost comes just from his erection brushing against the cold tile front.

“I know this is inexplicable angry don’t-know-how-to-process-our-feelings sex,” Foggy says, sounding just like he used to, when he wanted Matt around, sweet and funny with a new edge that makes Matt shiver, “but I need you to tell me if you don’t want something.”

“Don’t fuck me yet,” Matt says.

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, tracing a hand down Matt’s side to squeeze his ass, fingernails digging into it lightly.

“I haven’t—done that,” Matt says, tightly.

“Adventurous as you are,” Foggy says, voice dry but not mean. He moves his hand to the small of Matt’s back instead, pushing him down more so Matt folds his arms in front of him and rests his head on them, lifting his hips up. Foggy pushes him down a little harder, says, “Stay still.”

He moves his other hand around to slip his fingers back into Matt’s mouth, and Matt sucks at them, drawing them in deeper until Foggy seems satisfied. There’s a moment where Matt can hear Foggy’s hand on his own dick and he thinks that he’d probably let Foggy fuck him right here, if he ignored what Matt said—not that he ever would. Foggy might not be his friend anymore, but he’s still the best person Matt knows.

Instead, Foggy’s dick slides against his hole before he’s got both his hands on Matt’s ass, pushing it together to fuck him shallowly, just his warm thick erection sliding against Matt’s skin.

Matt could touch himself, but he doesn’t, just let Foggy do what he wants and practically shouting when Foggy finally reaches around to jerk him off. Matt comes within a minute, biting down on his arm to muffle the noise.

Foggy wipes off his hand on Matt’s shirt before his hips keep slapping against Matt’s ass, and Matt talks him off, voice rough and quiet, “Yeah, Foggy, harder.”

Foggy bends down to groan against Matt’s spine when he comes on his ass a few minutes later. His breath is hot and quick on Matt’s skin for a long time before he’s sitting up, clearing his throat.

“Well,” he says, kind of shaky.

Matt raises himself up, puts his glasses back on.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Uh, can I—” Foggy says, stepping forward, and Matt thinks that Foggy might kiss him again until he turns on the sink instead, washing his hands off.

There’s a long silence while Foggy puts his pants back on that was probably inevitable, all things considered, and Matt’s suddenly really aware of just how much this room smells like urine and cleaning solution and cheap hand soap. Eventually, Foggy steps in to press a soft kiss to Matt’s mouth, belying everything that just happened.

“Thanks,” he says, awkwardly, like has no idea what to say. Then he leaves.

Matt breathes in and out carefully.

That—definitely happened.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [always writing way more on tumblr](returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)


End file.
